On Saturday night we went to a potluck / movie night party at a friend's house. That afternoon we were preparing dishes to bring. I made a chocolate chip cookie pie (I'll post the recipe soon, it's a knockout) and Ike made some mashed yams. As he was preparing the yams, he spooned some out of the dish and let me sample it. It was so good, and it tasted like he'd put butter in it.
"How much butter did you put in these?" I asked him. They tasted so buttery.
He looked at me and smiled guiltily.
"Really, how much? I bet my cookie pie has more butter in it than the yams, come on, that recipe calls for six tablespoons," I said.
He just kept staring, shifting his eyes. So I looked in the fridge. When I'd finished prepping the pie, there was a stick of almost six tablespoons (I'd left that one because I needed six) and a stick of two tablespoons (I'd taken six from that stick). Neither of those partial sticks were anywhere to be seen.
I looked over at him. "You added both of them? That's almost eight tablespoons of butter! You put a whole damn stick of butter in there?" A whole stick of butter for four yams in a little glass dish. Dayum.
We both started laughing at this point. "Well, it's delicious!" I said. Buttery delicious.
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